


Tell Him

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Hannibal is always thinking about death, M/M, Major Illness, Will gets angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 11,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things may be better left unsaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Tell Or Not To Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal contemplates telling Will about his illness.

Hannibal studied the x-rays in front of him, steepling his fingers under his chin. He'd been looking at them for quite a while now, but he knew that they weren't going to change. The evidence was there in front of him, in black and white, irrefutable.

Will's encephalitis was getting worse.

Was he going to break down and tell the young man what was wrong with him, or was he going to keep letting Will get worse until the condition was incurable? He was torn in two different directions, both of them with their pros and cons.

If he let Will know what was happening, then the younger man might guess that he'd known about this condition all along, and their budding relationship would be irrevocably destroyed. But if he chose honesty, that was the risk he would have to take.

On the other hand, if he wasn't honest with Will about his condition, then he could end up losing Will to some sort of quick and unexpected death. He didn't want that.

Will would depart this life when Hannibal wanted him to. Not before.

No, he wanted to keep Will by his side. Though he hadn't expected it to happen, he'd grown fond of the young man, in ways that he'd never thought he would. He wanted to guide Will along the road to recovery more than he wanted to study him as a subject.

For some reason, he didn't want to lose Will. Was it because of the intimacy they shared? He had never felt this way about anyone else he'd chosen to take into his bed -- but, of course, Will had survived for much longer in that position than anyone else had.

Was hs in love with Will? Of course not. The idea was absurd.

But Will _was_ special. He couldn't deny that. The young man meant much more to him than he wanted to admit. Will was more than a patient, more than a lover.

Whatever it was that drew him so inexorably towards Will, he couldn't put a name to it. But he knew that he would have to tell his young lover what was wrong with him -- and he would have to do it soon, before things progressed to another level.

That was referring to both their relationship and Will's medical condition, he thought with a sigh, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. He would have to guide Will towards recovery in his own way. But there was no denying that it would have to be done.

He wouldn't lose Will. Not until it was time to dispatch him.

Opening his eyes, he took a deep breath and stood up, gathering the x-rays together and neatly filing them away in one of the desk drawers. Yes, he would have to tell Will about his condition, sooner rather than later. It would remain to be seen just what form his recovery would take.


	2. Darkness Closing In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hannibal breaks the news of his illness, Will can feel the darkness closing in around him.

"What do you mean, I'm ill?"

Will could hear his own voice, but it didn't seem as though it belonged to him. His voice felt disembodied; he felt as though he completely disconnected from himself, trapped somewhere behind a wall that he couldn't break through, no matter how hard he tried.

He had always felt as though he was cut off from the rest of the world, and the words that Hannibal was saying to him now made him feel even more so. He was alone, with darkness closing in all around him, and no one to help him find his way out of it back to the light.

Had he ever known what it was like to be in that light? He didn't think so. At the moment, it felt like his entire life had always been nothing but that darkness.

That darkness had always been all around him, and now it was moving in even more closely, threatening to completely envelop him. The only way out of that darkness was to reach out for the one person he knew who could make it go away.

Hannibal could do that. He was sure of it.

All he had to do was reach out to Hannibal, ask for his help. Hannibal would do all he could to extend that help; Will somehow felt that the other man was a lifeline, the only thing that could keep him from drowning in the deep water that was steadily rising around him.

"I mean exactly what I said, Will." Hannibal sighed, shaking his head. "You have encephalitis. One side of your brain is swelling. It's as if there is a fire in your brain, one that needs to be put out. But I'm not entirely sure how that is going to be done."

"So you don't know how to help me?"

He didn't want to ask that question. He didn't want to believe that Hannibal couldn't help him. At the moment, Hannibal seemed like the only light in the darkness, the only thing that he could reach out for and hold on to, the only thing that was _real_.

Those words that Hannibal was saying weren't real. They couldn't be. It was a blood clot, or a tumor, or some other thing that could easily be gotten rid of.

Encephalitis was more dangerous. He didn't know exactly what could happen, but he was sure that none of the possibilities were good ones. And he didn't want to think about it. Not now. He didn't want to contemplate all of the things that could happen.

"No, I don't." Hannibal sighed again, his gaze focused on Will as he leaned forward in his chair. "But I'll do all that I can to try to find a way to help you, Will. You're my friend -- and more. We'll see this through together. Hopefully to a good ending."

Will nodded, trying to smile. But those words didn't dispel the encroaching darkness.


	3. The Agony of Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has never felt so helpless -- or so alone.

Will stumbled out of his car and up the front steps of his house, still feeling lost and disoriented. He couldn't get the words that Hannibal had said to him out of his mind; he still couldn't quite process them. They didn't seem real; they couldn't apply to him.

Nothing felt real. The world seemed very far away.

He had encephalitis. He could die. Hannibal didn't know how to help him. Hannibal _wanted_ to help him, but he didn't know what the best course of action was.

Hannibal had seemed sympathetic, but he also hadn't really seemed to know how to reach out to Will. And there had been something in Will that had held him back from reaching out to Hannibal in the way that'd wanted to; some sixth sense had made him check that impulse.

Hannibal didn't really want him to reach out. He knew that instinctively, without being told. Hannibal wasn't the kind of man who had an easy time with affection; he wasn't comfortable with the concept of love even at their most intimate moments.

So of course he wouldn't be comfortable with it in this case.

Unlocking the front door, Will went inside, closing the door and sitting down on the couch. He didn't switch on the lamp, even though the darkness of evening was gathering. He felt as though he was walking through syrup, rooted to the spot, unable to move without great effort.

How was this going to end? Was Hannibal really going to try to find a way to help him, or was he alone in this? He had never felt so alone before; there was no one he wanted to talk about this with, no one he wanted to call and pour his heart out to.

He was facing the agony of defeat before the fight had really begun. Deep within, he was sure that this would kill him, that there was no reason to fight. Why struggle against an outcome that was probably inevitable? It would be better to simply accept his fate.

He'd never felt so small, so helpless, so .... defeated.

What was he expecting, anyway? Words of support and love from the man who was his lover? He should know better than that; Hannibal had never said that he loved him, not even when they were having sex. He wasn't going to say it now. It wasn't in him.

But those were the only words that could stave off the agony of defeat, the sense of being overwhelmed. Will _needed_ those words, more than he'd ever needed anything.

They wouldn't be forthcoming -- not now when he needed them most, or at any time in the future. If he even _had_ a future, he told himself, staring down at the hands clasped loosely in his lap. But that didn't stop him from wanting to hear them.

He would give anything to hear those words. _Anything._


	4. Only on the Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has never felt so cold -- or so alone.

He was cold. So cold. Cold and .... alone.

Will turned over in bed, pulling the blankets up around his shivering form. He shouldn't be this cold -- it was the middle of May, for heaven's sake. It wasn't cold outside, and it wasn't hot enough in the house to have the air conditioner running. But he was _freezing_.

He had no idea why he was so cold. Maybe it was just because he'd gotten used to sleeping next to Hannibal in the past couple of nights. He'd spent so much time at Hannibal's house lately that spending those nights with him had felt ... well, natural, in a way.

But maybe Hannibal had only been keeping him there to lull him into a false sense of security, so that it would be easier for him to break the news about Will's illness.

Encephalitis. Of all the things he could have guessed, that would have been the last. A fire in his brain, more or less. A fire that wasn't going to be easy to put out -- if it could be. A fire that burned high and hot, but that did nothing to dispel the coldness all around him.

He'd brought that coldness on himself, hadn't he?

He had never been comfortable with having people in his life. Yes, he dealt with them on a daily basis, both in his work for the FBI out in the field and in the classroom. But he never really let people into his life. He didn't trust anyone who tried to get close.

That was his own fault, really. He couldn't expect to feel warmth from others if he never let them close enough for them to be able to care about him -- or for him to be able to care about them. Hannibal was the only person who had broken down those walls.

Hannibal had made it through those barriers so easily.

Hannibal was really the only person he trusted -- and even then, trust only went so far. He was beginning to have grave doubts about this man who had become his lover, the man who had a disturbing tendency to say one thing and do another.

He was an enigma to Will. Maybe he always would be. And even though their intimacy brought heat to the surface, maybe it was _only_ on the surface.

No matter how physically close he got to Hannibal, there was always a coldness to their sexual encounters that puzzled Will. True, he didn't have anything to compare it to in his limited experience, but it felt as though there should be something _more_.

That wasn't important right now, he told himself, curling up under the blankets and trying to stop his teeth from chattering. Right now, all he wanted was to get physically warm. He could think about warming his soul later, when his body didn't feel frozen.

As he huddled there, he wondered if he would ever feel warm again.


	5. His Biggest Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is Will's greatest weakness.

Will raised the cup of tea he'd made to his lips, pretending to sip at it. He didn't really want to drink it, but he was trying to keep up the facade of making himself feel better when, in truth, he felt numb. It was as though he had simply shut down.

He felt like some inner battery had run down, the spark within him completely dying. He didn't want to think about what was wrong with him, or how it could be treated.

All he could think was that it would be a long and painful course of treatment. It wasn't something he wanted to deal with, and he didn't want to contemplate what his life might be like after it was over. He didn't want to think about how it could change him.

But hadn't he always wanted to change?

Hadn't he wanted to lose that ability he had to look inside others' minds, to push that empathic ability away from him and deny that it even existed? He didn't want it. He hadn't asked for it. He should feel joyous and hopeful that he could finally get rid of it.

But if he did, that would change who he was. It would change his life forever; he would no longer have a job with the FBI, and he could no longer feel that he did something to _help_ people. He would no longer be able to feel that he somehow made a difference.

He _needed_ that feeling. He needed to know that he did something positive in the world, something that he would be remembered for. If he didn't have that, then he was just a garden-variety man, with more than his share of problems and instability.

Wanting to help people wasn't a weakness, but it had always felt like one. He had always tried to put others ahead of himself, thinking that he was doing the right thing. But in the course of doing what was right, he had locked himself away from the world.

He had put up barriers that no one could break through.

The only person who was capable of breaching those barriers was Hannibal -- and Will didn't know if he would even want to try. Now that the illness that had made him such a fascinating subject for Hannibal to study was going to be cured, Hannibal might disappear from his life.

Hannibal said they were friends -- but they were more. Far more. He _needed_ that closeness, needed to have Hannibal in his life. Hannibal was his biggest weakness.

Would Hannibal come to him now, or would he hold back? Did Hannibal still want him -- or was he going to be left alone, to cope with his weakness as best he could? Will closed his eyes, the questions circling in his mind, wishing that he had any of the answers.


	6. Heat of the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal realizes that he has miscalculated Will's reaction to learning of his illness.

Hannibal sighed as he let the curtains fall across his bedroom window; he didn't usually watch the sun come up, but be hadn't been able to sleep last night. He had been waiting for a phone call that never came, the call he'd expected Will to make to him.

Will was proving to be more of an enigma than he had thought.

He had been so sure that the young man would call him, that Will would try to reach out. But the long night had finally passed, and there had been no word from Will. If he'd had some kind of crisis last night, he had managed to make it through on his own.

In any other case, Hannibal might have admired that kind of tenacity. In Will, it proved annoying. He didn't want the young man to make it through on his own.

He wanted Will to reach out to him. He wanted Will to _need_ him.

Will probably _did_ need him, far more than his stubborn mind would let him admit. Will was used to being alone, to not needing anyone in his life, to not letting anyone in. It still amazed Hannibal at times that he'd been allowed into Will's life as much as he had been.

It was almost admirable that Will had made it through so much of his life hidden behind those walls he kept up around himself. But it was time for those walls to come down.

Not for anyone else, of course. Only for him. Those walls should melt in the heat of the sun that he shone upon the darkness of Will's life, crumbling to the ground like melted wax.

He should be allowed entrance not only into Will's body, but into his heart and soul as well. Will had to _need_ him so desperately that he would turn to Hannibal for anything; he had to have Will's complete trust in every possible way.

Until he had that trust, he couldn't put his plans for Will into motion.

He had to become the benevolent sun in Will's sky, the one who Will gravitated towards. Until that goal was achieved, he would simply be spinning his wheels.

That wasn't something he could tolerate. He was already becoming quite impatient; he wasn't ready for Will's demise to be orchestrated yet, but neither did he want to waste time. He wanted to hurry things along, and he had thought that telling Will about his illness would achieve that.

Apparently, he had been wrong in that assumption.

Hannibal turned away from the window, walking to his closet to choose his clothes for the day. He would have to take another tack in the subjugation of Will Graham -- one that he would begin by isolating Will even more than he was already.


	7. A Different Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will doesn't deal well with change.

He wanted to believe that this was all a dream.

But it wasn't. Hannibal had made that clear. He had a medical condition, one that would take some time to cure. Yes, it was treatable, but the treatments could take something away that had always been a part of him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

What if he lost his empathic abilities? What if he could no longer function as he was used to doing without them? There were so many unanswered questions.

Will didn't think that he would like the answers when they finally presented themselves. He didn't want to face those answers, didn't want them written in stark black and white.

There were times when he felt that all he wanted was for those abilities to go away -- and then were other times when he didn't think he could exist without them. They'd always defined him; that was one way of holding on to who he was.

Of who he _thought_ he was.

He'd never been what anyone could call a "normal" person. It had always been a dream of his to be like all the other people he knew, to fit in, to be just like everyone else. But if that happened, he would lose his ability to help people, to make a difference in the world.

Without his empathic abilities, he was no longer special. He wouldn't know how to define himself, how to be the person he'd always been. Yes, he might be able to become someone different, maybe even someone better. But he wasn't sure that was what he wanted.

He'd been like this for too long. He couldn't let it go.

Once the treatments started, would the disturbing dreams go away? Would the stag leave his life and his nightmares, never to return? That might be a good thing, but it was still something that he was used to that wouldn't be there any longer.

He didn't deal well with change. And this could be one of the biggest changes of his life. It could affect all that he was, and force him to become a different person.

Would that change be one for the better -- or the worst thing that could happen to him? There was no way for him to know until it actually happened.

Will wasn't sure that he could cope with that. He was too used to being who he was; he'd never been all that comfortable in his own skin, but it was one that he was used to wearing. He knew who he was, and he wasn't ready to give up that security.

In the future, maybe that person would only exist in his dreams.


	8. Crescendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's voice is like music to Will's ears.

Someone was knocking on the front door.

Will didn't want to get up from the couch, didn't want to see who was there. No one had spoken; there had been no calling out of his name, just the few quick knocks, followed by a few more. It didn't sound like the way anyone he knew would knock.

But how could he tell who it was just from a knock on the door? If he wanted to know who was out there, he'd have to get up and go to the door to find out.

He didn't want to bother. He was comfortable where he was.

No, that wasn't true. He wasn't comfortable; he simply didn't want to get up and pull himself out of his shell-shocked state. He wanted to sit here and wallow in his own misery, let his thoughts and his fears for what the future would be like take him over.

It wasn't healthy; Will knew that. He should force himself to get up, go to the door, and interact with whoever was there. He couldn't just lock himself away from the world because he had a disease that would have to be treated -- even though those treatments could change his life forever.

He was acting like a child. He'd have to come out of this self-imposed shell eventually; he couldn't turn his back on all of his obligations.

But somehow, it felt as though the rest of the world had turned its back on _him_. He felt bereft, lost in a sea of uncertainty.

That wasn't true, either. There were so many people out there who wanted to help him, people who wanted to see him get better, people who he could call his friends. He wasn't alone, even though he spent most of his time feeling that way.

"Will? Are you in there? Hello?"

He almost wanted to cry at the sound of that voice; it was music to his ears. Hannibal. Hannibal had come to him at long last; it was his lover standing out side that door, waiting to be granted entrance into the house, just as he'd been granted entrance into Will's life.

Now that Hannibal was here, he had someone to talk to, someone who could possibly make sense of all his tangled, jumbled feelings. Hannibal would figure it all out.

It was as though the voice calling to him was a symphony; the music of Hannibal's accent flowed through his veins, filling his numbed senses and bringing him back to life. Will managed to get to his feet and stumble towards the door, flinging it open.

The music swelled to a crescendo as their gazes met and held.


	9. Light in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is the only one who can shine a light into the darkness that's enveloping Will's life.

"Hello, Will. Are you all right?"

Did he look all right? Will wanted to ask, but he didn't. He merely nodded slowly, knowing that he was telling the truth now that Hannibal was here. His lover seemed to have brought a light into the darkness now that he was here. He felt better already.

Having Hannibal here made all the difference. He was suddenly ashamed of how he'd been acting; he wasn't a child who could run and hide away from his problems.

He was acting like a spoiled brat, letting those problems override everything else in his life. After all, it wasn't as though he was suffering from some terminal illness. His encephalitis could be cured, and it _would_ be. He was just afraid of what that cure might take away from him.

It was terrifying to think of losing a part of himself.

Could he talk to Hannibal about that without sounding like he was a petulant child who didn't want to lose his favorite toy? He wasn't sure of just how his worries would sound once they were phrased aloud in words. He didn't know what Hannibal would think of them.

Did it really matter what anyone else thought? Those were _his_ worries, _his_ concerns. It shouldn't matter what they meant to anyone else.

But he wanted Hannibal to think well of him. He didn't want Hannibal to disapprove of those concerns, and he certainly didn't want Hannibal to turn away from him because of them.

Hannibal was frowning as he stepped into the living room and waited for Will to close the door behind him. "I've been trying to call you, but you weren't picking up the phone. I was worried about you, Will. I thought that you might be letting yourself sink into depression."

Will let out a sharp, bitter laugh. If Hannibal only knew.

The other man peered at him closely, his frown intensifying. "Will, there's nothing for you to worry about. You're going to be all right. The treatments might take a while, and they may not be completely comfortable, but the important thing is that you'll be fine."

Will shook his head, wishing that he knew how to put his concerns into words so that they wouldn't sound .... well, selfish. But he didn't know where to start.

Still, Hannibal was here now, and the darkness that had seemed to enshroud him had been banished by light. He could talk to Hannibal; maybe, with any luck, he could sort out all of his feelings about this situation, and be reassured that everything would, indeed, be all right.

Just having Hannibal near him was a good start.


	10. Black Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will can feel the storm clouds gathering over his life, waiting to rain down on him.

Somehow, the atmosphere in the room was considerably lighter with Hannibal here.

Hannibal sat down on Will's couch, making himself comfortable before he looked up at the younger man, a frown on his face and a question in his eyes.

He gestured for Will to sit down next to him; Will did so, resting his head back against the couch cushions and staring up at the ceiling, waiting for Hannibal to speak. He had no idea what his lover was going to ask; whatever it was, he would try to give an honest answer.

"Will, you can't let yourself sink into despondence over this."

Hannibal's voice was very quiet, very measured; he was obviously calm and collected. Will almost wanted to laugh at that; his own life was falling apart, or so it seemed, and yet Hannibal, who was his lover and the closest thing he had to a friend, didn't seem at all affected.

"I just ...." His voice trailed off; he wasn't certain of how to put his feelings into words. After a moment of silence, he continued, searching for words. "I feel like there are all these dark clouds gathering around my life, just ready to unleash one hell of a storm."

Hannibal nodded, his demeanor still calm and cool. "Not an unusual reaction. You understand that whatever happens in the future with these treatments, it might affect your life in many ways."

"I don't want to lose who I am," Will whispered, the words sounding very small and lonely in the quiet of the room. "I don't want to lose what I do. That scares me."

He took a deep breath, then continued, his voice slightly shaky. "There have been times when I wanted it to go away, but now, I don't. I've started to realize that this .... empathy defines who I am. It lets me help people. I don't want that to stop."

"I don't believe that it will." Hannibal turned to face him, reaching out a hand to rest if on Will's knee. "Your empathy has been a part of you for a long time, long before the encephalitis happened. It will not disappear with the treatments. I'm sure of it."

Somehow, Hannibal always knew the right thing to say.

The storm clouds that had looked so black before suddenly seemed to be dissipating; the future didn't look as dark as it had before Hannibal had walked through that door. It was funny how just a few words from his lover could make everything turn around for him.

Hannibal's warm fingers were kneading his knee, sending a current of pleasure through his body. Will had no doubt as to where he and Hannibal were going to end up later.

In his bed. Exactly where he wanted them to be.


	11. A Simple Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will doesn't deal well with change, or with making choices.

"I don't deal well with change, Hannibal," Will whispered, unable to look at his lover. "You know that. And I'm terrified that getting rid of the encephalitis is going to change me, that it's going to take away part of who I am and turn me into a different person."

"You can't really believe that," Hannibal said, his voice calm. "The encephalitis hasn't always been with you. The empathy has. It won't be taken away."

"You can't know that for sure." Will finally looked up at Hannibal, his fear written in his eyes. "If that gets taken away from me, then I'm nothing. I'm nobody. I won't really have a place in the world. More importantly, I wont know who I am any more."

"So you believe that your empathic ability defines you, is that it?"

Will didn't know what to say to that question; the answer seemed so obvious to him. Of course his empathic abilities defined who he was; they always had. He had always been the boy who was different, the man who had an ability that no one else could really understand.

His empathy had always set him apart from everybody else; it had always made him different from the norm, made him special. In some ways, he hated those differences; but in others, he'd spent his life clinging to them. They were a part of who he was.

They _were_ who he was. If he didn't have those abilities any more, he wouldn't know what to do with his life. It would feel as though a part of him had been ripped out by the roots, taken away from him against his well. It would feel like a violation.

But on the other hand, he couldn't simply not have the encephalitis treated. If he didn't, it would kill him; the fever and hallucinations would keep going on, and keep getting worse. Eventually, his brain wouldn't be able to take it any more, and would completely shut down.

He didn't want to lose his empathy, but he didn't want to die, either.

In the end, this was a simple choice; it wasn't even a choice, not really. He would have to go through with the treatments, and have the encephalitis gone. There was no way that he could choose retaining his empathy over losing his life.

"Of course I don't think it defines me," he said softly, knowing that his words weren't exactly true. "I just don't want to lose it. But in this case, I might not have a choice."

All he could hope was that the changes heading his way weren't going to change him to such a degree that he would lose an intrinsic part of who he was. Because if they did, then he wouldn't know which way to turn, and he would spend the rest of his life wandering in the darkness.


	12. Melting From the Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will needs to escape from the realities of his life for a little while, and Hannibal is throwing him a lifeline.

"Don't let yourself accept defeat, Will." Hannibal's voice was quiet, but strong at the same time. "If you believe that you will lose your empathy due to these treatments, that could turn out to be self-fulfilling prophecy. You must have more faith in yourself."

Will nodded slowly, though he wasn't sure that he believed in what Hannibal was saying. Right now, it was hard to have faith in much of anything.

He needed a lifeline to hold on to, and Hannibal was offering him one. But for some reason, it was so hard to reach out for that lifeline, so hard to rouse himself to make the effort. It was so much easier to just sit here and feel that he was drowning, being pulled under for the last time.

Will wasn't sure that his lifeline was enough to keep him going any more.

"Will, I can't help you if you won't talk to me and let me in." Hannibal reached out to place a hand on Will's knee, kneading it, the warmth of his fingers sending tingles up Will's spine. "There's something you're still holding back, isn't there?"

Will didn't want to admit to that, but he knew that it was true. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded, unable to stop himself from saying the words. "I'm afraid that if I lose my empathy, you won't be interested in me any more because I'll just be a .... a normal person."

Hannibal tilted his head to one side, turning slightly from where he sat beside Will to look at him. "If you think that I could ever lose interest in you, my sweet William, then you are highly mistaken. It wasn't only your empathic abilities that drew me to you."

Without warning, Hannibal leaned forward, raising one hand to capture Will's chin in his hand before capturing the younger man's mouth with his own. The kiss was hot, demanding, unlike any other kiss that Will had ever received from anyone.

He was sure that he was melting from the inside under that searing heat.

He never wanted this kiss to stop; he wanted it to go on and on forever, to drown out everything else in his life, to keep him from having to think. He wanted time to stand still, for the two of them to be locked in a crystal ball here in his home, never having to leave.

Hannibal was leaning over him, pushing him down onto his back, and he was letting it happen. He knew what was building between them, what they were going to do.

He _needed_ Hannibal, needed his kiss, his touch, his body. He needed to be taken over by his lover, to put everything else out his mind for just a little while. And now that such a chance was being presented to hm, he was going to take it and hold on for dear life.


	13. Scorched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only Hannibal can put this fire out.

This was all he wanted, Will thought as he reached for the hem of his shirt to tug it off over his head and throw it to the floor. He wanted to be with Hannibal, no matter how uncomfortable it might be to have sex on his living room couch. He'd take what he could get.

Hannibal might think they'd be much more comfortable in Will's bed, but he didn't seem to show any inclination to move them from the couch.

Will had never had sex on this couch -- or in his own bed, for that matter. His couplings with Hannibal had always been at the other man's home; there seemed to be some kind of unwritten rule that they avoided being together here, as though it was off-limits.

Maybe Hannibal felt it was getting too close, too personal.

Though he didn't see how they could get much more personal than joining their bodies, Will thought as he raised his hips so that Hannibal could pull off his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare beneath the other man, waiting with bated breath for whatever Hannibal would do next.

Molten lava was already coursing through his veins, a fire that he couldn't hold back. It was always like this when he was with Hannibal; the desire that took over his body was uncontrollable, like a raging fire that swept through him, leaving him spent but still wanting more.

He would never be able to get enough of Hannibal; he was sure that the fire within him would never be put out, that his desire would never be sated. He was addicted to Hannibal, hooked on him as surely as he could be on any drug that he chose to take.

If Hannibal didn't put this fire out here and now, it would consume him as surely as the fever in his brain was doing at this very moment. Only it would move much more swiftly, burning him from the inside out, reducing him to nothing more than a pile of smoldering ash.

He _needed_ that fire, needed to be scorched by its intensity.

It only took Hannibal a few seconds to divest himself of his clothes; Will's eyes widened when his lover pulled a tube of lubricant from the pocket of his jacket. Obviously, Hannibal had come here today knowing that they would be intimate.

How could he have known that, unless .... he had intended for this to happen. He had planned on seducing Will, planned on the two of them being together.

At any other time, Will would have instantly been suspicious of Hannibal's motives, but at the moment, he needed the other man too much to think about them. Closing his eyes, he let Hannibal push his thighs apart, giving himself over to whatever his lover intended to do with him.


	14. Courtship Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His desire for Will always makes Hannibal throw caution to the winds.

Hannibal looked down at the young man sprawled out before him, his eyes roving over Will's nude body. This was the first time he'd taken Will here, in his own home, in his territory. Somehow, he had never felt that it was quite right for him to be here.

Yes, he was Will's lover, but everyone needed their personal space -- Will more than most. And this wasn't the sort of place that Hannibal preferred to be in.

Oh, there was nothing wrong with it -- in fact, it was quite a pleasant little house. But it was uniquely Will's space, and Hannibal didn't feel overly comfortable here. He wasn't really in control here; there was nothing to give him the advantage.

And having the advantage was always important to him.

His need for control was one of the characteristics that defined who he was; he acknowledged that about himself, and made no apologies for it. He wouldn't be so successful at what he did -- both his career and the hidden aspects of his life -- without that need for control.

That need had served him well over the years. But Will Graham changed the playing field; his desire for Will was something that veered wildly out of control when he least expected it to, and that in itself made it more than a little dangerous for him to be here.

This civilized veneer of a courtship dance between himself and Will was only a front for the passion that lay beneath, a passion that he could far too easily get carried away with. He had already thrown caution to the winds by daring to be with Will intimately.

Being here, in Will's house, preparing to make love to him in the most public room of that house, was being even less cautious -- but he couldn't hold himself back. The civilized mating dance had reached its conclusion; they had crossed over into the realm of _need_.

He didn't simply _want_ to be with Will. He _needed_ this.

And judging from the expression on Will's face, he needed it even more badly. Hannibal let a smile curve his lips as he slid one lubed finger, then another, inside Will, quickly finding his prostate and using his fingers to stimulate the younger man.

He was gratified by the gasp of pleasure from Will's lips, by the way Will's body arched up into his questing fingers. Oh yes, Will needed this. That much was obvious.

Enough of this courtship ritual, Hannibal told himself as he pulled his fingers slowly out of Will. He pushed the other man's knees up to his chest, positioning himself at Will's entrance. It was time to sate the need for both of them, and push them over the brink of ecstasy.


	15. Immediate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing else feels this _real_.

With anyone else, he would feel dirty. With Hannibal, he only felt .... free.

Will cried out his lover's name as Hannibal pushed into him, locking his legs around the other man's waist as thought that could pull Hannibal even more deeply inside him. All he wanted was for this to go on for as long as possible, to never have to come back to reality.

This was his reality; Hannibal thrusting into him, those hands clutching his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises on his flesh, his body being filled, taken by the man who was his lifeline. He didn't need anything else, not as long as he had this.

Nothing else was this immediate, this _real_.

Strange how something could feel so dirty and forbidden when he even thought about it happening with another person, but how it felt so _right_ with Hannibal.

He had been made for this man. Hannibal had said that more than once, but most of the time, he didn't believe it. He didn't think that he had been created specifically for one other person; soul mates wasn't a concept that held any water with him.

But with the two of them, it just might be true.

There was something about Hannibal that called to a hidden side within him, something that was uninhibited and wild and wasn't condoned by society. Something that was almost frightening, but that he reached out for with a need that overrode everything else.

And not only that, but Hannibal was a _terrific_ fuck. At least _he_ thought so.

Though it wasn't like he had anything to compare this with.

That knowledge flashed through his mind just as Hannibal spilled into him; his own orgasm washed over him only seconds later, wringing a wordless cry from his lips. Will's body went limp under Hannibal, his limbs trembling in the aftermath of his climax.

He didn't want to speak, didn't want to break the silence that enclosed them. All he could hear was his own heavy breathing mingled with Hannibal's; he didn't want words to break into the cocoon of quiet that always followed their sexual encounters.

But words would come, of course. They were inevitable.

Hannibal slowly pulled out of him, sitting up and reaching for his handkerchief. Without speaking, he wiped away the evidence of Will's climax from his stomach, then reached out to do the same for Will, smiling down at him as he did so.

One smile from Hannibal, and none of this seemed dirty. It only seemed as though he was right where he should be, with the one person who could give him what he so desperately needed.

He smiled back, tentatively, waiting for Hannibal to say something.


	16. Bittersweet Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In one moment of startling clarity, Will knows that his relationship with Hannibal will end in enmity.

Hannibal smiled as he reached down to stroke his fingertips along Will's cheek, their gazes meeting. Neither of them spoke; Will swallowed hard as a realization came into his mind, crystal-clear, as though a photograph of the future had been revealed to him.

This was going to end. He didn't know when, or how, but it _would_ end. As close as he and Hannibal were now, they couldn't stay that way.

At some point, they were going to part -- not drifting apart, but ripped asunder by a sudden tear in the fabric of their relationship. They would end up being pitted against each other -- their enmity would be as bitter then as their intimacy was sweet now.

He didn't want that time to come.

He wanted the two of them to stay as they were; he wanted them to be even closer, for them to become lovers in the fullest sense. He wanted all of the walls that they each kept around themselves to come crumbling to the ground, for them both to let each other in.

But it could never happen, and a part of him knew that. They were both far too secretive, holding those secrets close. They were both far too protective of themselves, neither of them trusting anyone enough for any kind of full disclosure, not even to their lovers.

The day would come when they'd part, and they would become bitter enemies. He could see it now, as clearly as though it had already happened. He didn't know when that day would arrive, but he had the dreadful feeling that it would come more quickly than he thought.

The idea of it made his heart clench in his chest; the last thing he wanted was to lose the lifeline that he was clinging to so desperately. He didn't want to believe that the closeness he had with Hannibal could turn to enmity, that he could lose this forever.

The thought was almost too painful to bear.

Will closed his eyes, turning his face to the side, into Hannibal's palm. He couldn't stand to lose this; if he didn't have Hannibal in his life, then he had nothing but his work, and that would be cold comfort indeed. It wouldn't be enough. It never had been.

Maybe he would still have Hannibal in his life in some way, in a bittersweet coda that would leave a faint but visible bruise on his soul.

That bruise would never heal. It would always be there, as a bittersweet reminder of what Hannibal had once been to him, and all that he had lost. He could already feel it forming, in the region of his heart -- a darkness that would mark him for the rest of his life.


	17. A Distant Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In spite of his doubts, Hannibal is always the first person Will reaches out to.

"Will, is something wrong?" Hannibal's voice was soft, concerned, pulling Will out of his thoughts. He couldn't believe that he had been thinking only a moment ago of this man being his enemy, of this relationship coming to an end in a bad way.

The look in Hannibal's eyes told him otherwise. This man _did_ care about him. There was no way that Hannibal could look at him like that and _not_ care.

He shook his head, groping for words. "I guess I'm just .... still feeling disoriented," he murmured, unsure of just what to say. There didn't seem to be any words that accurately described how he felt. "I don't really know what to say. I just feel so .... lost, I guess."

Hannibal's smile vanished; in a heartbeat, his expression turned sad.

"But you aren't lost, Will," he said, his voice very soft, but the words sounding strong and firm. "I've found you. And I'll do my best to take care of you. You should know that. If you doubt that I'll do my best for you, then you don't know me very well at all."

 _I've never really known you_ , Will wanted to protest, but he didn't. Those words would probably only lead to an argument -- or to Hannibal putting up more walls around himself. It was hard enough to break through the barriers that were already there.

"Once you're treated for the encephalitis, this lost feeling will be a distant memory," Hannibal told him, stroking his hair back from his face. "You'll feel much more stable then, much more grounded. I think you need that stability in your life."

Will nodded, knowing that Hannibal's words were true. He'd always needed stability in his life, and he'd never really had it. He had always reached out for it, but that stability was more elusive than he'd thought. He had never quite managed to have it within his grasp.

Maybe this time would be different. Maybe Hannibal was right.

If his illness was treated, then he _would_ be more stable. He would be more clearheaded, and he'd be able to change a lot of things in his life. He would see his relationship with Hannibal in a clearer light, and he'd be sure of how he should proceed with it.

Either he would keep pursuing this relationship, or he would let it, too, become a distant memory. He had no idea yet which of those paths he would choose to follow.

If he was lucky, soon the encephalitis would be a distant memory, and his relationship with Hannibal would be stronger than ever. After all, it was Hannibal who was helping him through this difficult time -- and it was Hannibal who he would reach out for when this was all over.


	18. Hidden Hungers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal reluctantly admits to himself that he's becoming dangerously involved with Will.

Hannibal moved off the couch, not taking his gaze away from Will as he reached for his clothes and began to get dressed. He hadn't intended to take Will, but his hunger for the young man had spiraled out of control, and he couldn't find it in himself to have regrets.

It could be a while before he would have the opportunity to be with Will physically again, and he had wanted it to happen one last time before taking him to the hospital.

He was becoming dangerously entangled with Will Graham, despite all of his inner warnings to be careful of doing just that. There was something about Will that drew him like the proverbial moth to a flame -- it was much more than mere desire, more than simply _wanting_.

Will was the one person whose hunger matched his own.

Oh, he didn't mean just their hunger for each other's bodies, for the pleasure that they could take from their couplings. Will's dark side was a counterpart to his -- they would be a perfectly matched pair once he taught Will to break free from the constraints of society.

It remained to be seen whether he would be able to coerce Will into doing so, but it would be a fascinating challenge for him. So far, he thought that he'd been doing a masterful job of it -- but Will's illness had gotten in the way of his careful plans.

It wouldn't do for Will to become deathly ill while he was coaxing those plans to fruition. The experiment would certainly fail if that illness caused Will's death; he would never find another pawn as perfectly suited to him as Will was. He wouldn't risk losing him.

He would have to take Will to the hospital now, and stay with him while he was being treated. The truth of their relationship could very well come out into the open, but he didn't really mind. His professional reputation could withstand the scrutiny.

After all, Will hadn't technically been his patient.

No one would be able to say that he'd had an illicit relationship with a patient, because he hadn't officially been treating Will. They'd only talked as two friends -- and that friendship had gradually turned into something more. No one could claim that he had crossed a line.

As long as they could keep their hunger for each other hidden until Will left the hospital and was back in his care -- and under his control -- everything would be fine.

Hannibal held out a hand to Will, smiling as he did so. Those hidden hungers they both harbored would have to be kept in check for a while, but it wouldn't be long before they could let those hungers run free -- and he could turn Will back to the path he was meant to be on.


	19. Shiny Happy Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will doesn't want to admit that his future with Hannibal won't be the paradise he dreams of.

Will got up slowly, not looking at Hannibal as he reached for his discarded clothes. He shook his head, letting them drop to the floor, finally speaking as though it was hard to get the words out of his mouth. "I'd better put on some clean clothes."

Hannibal nodded in agreement, his cool gaze sweeping over Will's nude body. "Yes, you should. You might want to take a shower before we leave, too."

Will nodded, making his way upstairs and into the bathroom. He closed the door, knowing that there was no need to lock it; Hannibal would never be so rude as to come into the bathroom while he was in the shower. He would consider it rude, a breach of privacy.

He turned on the shower and stepped inside, turning his face up to the spray.

He had to stop fooling himself into thinking that a life with Hannibal, free from the encephalitis that had been clouding his brain, was going to be some kind of paradise. He didn't even know if Hannibal wanted a life with him, so he shouldn't keep thinking about it.

And he shouldn't try to tell himself that having this illness out of his system was suddenly going to diminish all of his problems, Will told himself with a heavy sigh. He would still be the same person after the encephalitis was gone. He'd just be a little less fucked up than he was now.

It was stupid to try to convince himself that his life was going to be a lot better once this was all over. He would still have the same anxieties, and the same problems would still be there in his life. There would just be one less problem for him to deal with.

Life wasn't going to be a shiny happy paradise from here on out. It wouldn't even be that different. It would just be business as usual, with him trying to figure out some way to further his relationship with Hannibal in the hope that they could make some kind of a future together.

That didn't sound like paradise. It sounded like a lot of hard work.

And one drawback was that everyone around them, everyone he and Hannibal saw on a regular basis, all the people that he worked with, might know about their relationship by then. He didn't see how it could be kept hidden for much longer.

Will didn't know if he was ready to have that relationship brought out into the open, but if it was, he'd have to learn to live with it. Because he wasn't giving Hannibal up.

Hannibal might not end up being his paradise, but Hannibal was the person he wanted -- and for once in his life, he was determined to reach out for what he wanted. Will turned the shower off and stepped out, taking a deep breath. This time, he would fight for his paradise. And he would win.


	20. Softly Falling Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will can sense Hannibal putting up more barriers between them.

Will came downstairs after he'd showered and changed into clean clothes, to find Hannibal washing dishes at the kitchen sink. He felt slightly embarrassed about that; he usually took better care of the place than he'd been doing lately, but he had been distracted.

Hannibal turned when Will came into the kitchen, putting the last dish on the drying rack and turning off the water in the sink. "Are you ready to go?"

Will was a bit taken aback by his lover's tone; he hadn't expected Hannibal to sound so matter-of-fact. But still, he nodded, sighing as he did so. "Yeah, I guess I am. Might as well get this started, I guess. The sooner it starts, the sooner I'll know if I lose everything."

Hannibal frowned at those words, but didn't answer them.

Will shrugged into his jacket, not looking at Hannibal. It felt as though a wall had been erected between the two of them after their intimacy; he felt as though he was being locked out of Hannibal's affections, even if the other man _was_ here with him.

He shouldn't think like that, Will told himself firmly. Hannibal was the person who was here, taking care of him, making sure that he made it to the hospital. He might not be affectionate, but he was proving that he cared. He wouldn't be here if that wasn't true.

But he still felt alone, and colder than he'd ever felt before. He felt as though he was being buried under softly falling snow; it might look pretty and benevolent, but it would slowly freeze him to death, and cut him off from the rest of the living world.

Hannibal was like that snow; he might seem as though he only wanted what was best for Will, but something in the back of his mind told him to be careful, not to trust Hannibal as much as he wanted to, that this man was more dangerous than he realized.

He didn't want to listen to that warning.

Will desperately wanted to tell himself that Hannibal _did_ care, that they'd just had sex and that it had meant something to both of them. But he couldn't help feeling that Hannibal was pulling away from him, pulling a mask into place.

He was building up those already impenetrable walls even higher, and there was no way that Will could break through them, no matter how hard he tried.

The snow was falling, and Will couldn't help feeling that soon, it would cover him completely. And once it did, there was no coming back. He would be lost forever, wandering in a world that was devoid of any life until he gave in and ceased to exist.


	21. Unbridgeable Chasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will feels helpless to break the silence that's settled between him and Hannibal.

Will sighed as he leaned his head back against the headrest in Hannibal's car; they hadn't spoken since he'd locked the front door of his house and they'd both gotten into the car. The silence surrounded them like a palpable, uncomfortable entity.

Why weren't they talking? Will didn't know the answer to that question; his only answer was that they didn't have anything to say to each other.

That wasn't true, not really. He had plenty to say to Hannibal. He was going into the hospital, and possibly lose a part of him that he didn't want to relinquish. He should be able to talk to his lover about that; he should be able to lay out all of his fears, and be reassured.

Only Hannibal definitely wasn't the reassuring type.

Sometimes it would be nice to be involved with someone who could actually _show_ their support when he needed it, Will thought, stealing a glance at Hannibal. But the other man seemed oblivious to him, looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road in front of them.

Maybe, deep down inside, Hannibal was just as concerned about this as he was, Will thought with a sigh. Maybe he just found it hard to show emotion, especially when he had deep feelings about something. But at the moment, Will needed more than that.

The silence that stretched between them felt like an unbridgeable chasm; he didn't know how he was going to cross over it and end up safely in Hannibal's arms. At the moment, he didn't think it was possible for him to do that; Hannibal seemed too far away from him.

They were sitting right next to each other, and yet they'd never been so far apart. It almost felt as though he was sitting next to a stranger, and that their silence wrapped him in a cocoon that he would never be able to break out of, no matter how hard he tried.

This couldn't go on. He had to break this silence somehow, had to find something to say.

But try as he might to think of something to say that would break the uncomfortable silence, he couldn't. Any words that would be relevant to anything in their lives had gone right out of his head, and he knew that the man beside him didn't like idle conversation.

There was nothing to say, no way to break the silence that seemed to settle in a cloud all around them. That silence was choking Will, making it hard for him to breathe.

They'd be at the hospital soon, he told himself with a sigh. There, the silence would be broken -- and maybe, when he was settled in bed in a quiet hospital room, Hannibal would still be beside him, and he'd finally be able to say everything that he wanted this man to hear.


	22. Scarlet Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finally admits a truth to himself that he hasn't wanted to put into words before.

Will sighed and closed his eyes, trying to make himself relax. He didn't want to be here, but the hospital was the only place where he could be treated for the encephalitis, so he didn't have much of a choice. Still, he felt uneasy and uncomfortable in this room.

He felt as though he was wearing a scarlet letter emblazoned on his forehead -- but instead of an "A," his letter was a big red "G." For gay.

Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, he told himself firmly. For most of his life, he'd tried to convince himself that he wasn't interested in men, only in women. He'd even reached out to women from time to time, even though he didn't really want them.

But he'd never been with any of them. That had told him a lot.

Even kissing a woman wasn't something that he liked. The one that he'd kissed recently had felt like a cold, dead corpse -- kissing her had been akin to kissing a slippery fish. It hadn't been pleasant at all, and he didn't want to repeat the experience.

Now, kissing Hannibal .... that was entirely different. It was as thought their two sets of lips had been meant to kiss each other; kissing Hannibal not only felt _right_ to him, but it had been one of the most pleasurable experiences he'd ever had in his entire life.

That was, until they'd had sex. If he had thought the kissing was good, the sex had been mind-blowing. It was enough to convince him that he was most definitely gay, and _not_ bisexual, as he'd wanted to believe. No, he was thoroughly gay. And Hannibal was his man.

Or was he Hannibal's? Will sighed, turning over restlessly and wishing that he could bury his face into the cool pillow and forget about this train of thought. It didn't really matter who belonged to who, or who needed the other more. What mattered was that everyone knew.

He would probably get the third degree when he went back to work.

 _If_ he went back to work, he thought with another sigh. At the moment, it didn't look like that was going to happen. There was no telling what these treatments would do to him -- he could lose the one ability that made him qualified to work as an FBI agent in the field.

If he did, then his life as he knew it would be over, and he'd have to start a new one, if he could. Not to mention that he would have to deal with that scarlet letter hanging over his head.

This probably wasn't the best time to think about the future, Will told himself, turning over onto his back and wishing that he could find a comfortable position. Enough time to think about that later, after he knew how this was all going to work out.


	23. Answered Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has never believed in saying prayers, but he desperately needs this one to be answered.

Will lay back in the hospital bed, closing his eyes, feeling the drowsiness already starting to overcome him. This was it, then. The first treatment for the encephalitis, which he would sleep through. When he awakened, he'd know for sure if he was still himself.

Would he be able to tell if he still had his empathic abilities, or would that test come when he went back to work in the field -- if he was even allowed to do so?

He had no idea. He didn't know if he would simply _sense_ whether or not his empathy was gone, or if he wouldn't feel any differently. After hating his ability for most of his life, he was surprised by how badly he didn't want to lose it when faced with the possibility..

He didn't want to be come a different person. He wanted to stay who he was.

His empathic ability might not make him happy -- in fact, it was the cause of a lot of anguish a great deal of the time -- but it had always grounded him. It had always given him a sense of identity, and he wasn't ready to face losing that..

It was frightening to think that he could lose so much of himself -- and that he didn't have any idea how to get it back once it was gone. Will doubted that he could -- once that ability had disappeared, he knew that it would be gone forever, irretrievable.

He'd never believed in prayer; it wasn't a concept that he felt had any validity in his life. He'd tried to pray when he was a child, but those prayers had never been answered. Ever since he was a teenager, he had scorned using that kind of crutch for himself.

But now, he found himself praying to any deity that crossed his mind, praying that he wouldn't lose what had so suddenly come to seem like an intrinsic part of the person he was. He needed this prayer to be answered; for once in his life, he needed a miracle.

Though he very much doubted that his prayer would be heeded.

He would feel himself drifting off to sleep; he forced his eyes open, though his eyelids felt as though they were stuck and didn't want to budge. Hannibal swam into his vision, sitting by his bedside with an open book on his lap, though instead of reading, he was watching Will.

"Go to sleep, Will," Hannibal said, his voice very soft. "I will be here when you wake up. I won't leave your side. You will be safe, and cared for. I promise you that."

Will nodded, gratefully letting go of consciousness. In spite of the awkwardness between the two of them on the way here, and the problems that were sure to come, Hannibal was here, right by his side. And that meant more to him than all the answered prayers in the world.


	24. Exactly What He Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has a fragile, vulnerable Will just where he wants him.

Hannibal glanced over at the young man lying in the hospital bed, closing the notebook that he'd been writing in. He had gone to great pains to make Will think that it was merely a book; he hadn't wanted it known that it was one of his case notebooks.

Specifically, he had been keeping notes about Will's case. He had just been adding to them, but he didn't want Will to wake up and catch him at it.

He hadn't intended to bring this notebook to the hospital with him, but he had wanted to write down some of his observations while he was here with Will. This would close the first phase of Will's case, and he was very pleased with how it was going.

This was only the beginning. There was so much more to accomplish.

Will was becoming closer to him with each passing day; it wasn't simply because they were lovers, or just because Will had chosen to open up to him. Will was drawn to the darkness within him; it called to the same darkness that rested in the young man's soul.

Hannibal had no doubt that he could keep Will under his control, even without the encephalitis acting in Will's brain to confuse him and make him more vulnerable, and therefore more malleable to his manipulations. He had laid the groundwork well.

Will trusted him -- and more than that, Will wanted to be with him. He had already overlooked little things that could have made him suspicious of Hannibal, small slips that ordinarily wouldn't have been made. He would have to be more careful about those in the future.

But at the moment, he had exactly what he wanted. Will was more vulnerable to him than ever; now that he would be recovering from the treatments in just a short while, he would be more fragile, and much more susceptible to any of his suggestions.

Hannibal had his young lover exactly where he wanted him.

He would write more in his notebook later, and he would take care to keep it out of Will's sight, as well as out of anyone else's who might be interested in knowing just what it said. He couldn't let that book fall into the wrong hands; if it did, irreparable harm could be done.

He would have to be careful while he was here, but when they left the hospital and he insisted that Will stay at his home to convalesce, he could be less vigilant.

Hannibal tucked the notebook into an inner pocket of his suit jacket, making sure that it was secure. He still had much more to write, and many more plans to make. Being here in the hospital while Will was being treated would give him plenty of opportunity to do just that.


	25. The Road To Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's entire future hangs in the balance, but the one person who matters most is right beside him.

Will opened his eyes, swallowing hard as he realized where he was. He was in his hospital room, flat on his back in bed, and he'd been through the first treatment for his encephalitis. He had expected to feel different after that initial treatment, but he didn't.

Nothing seemed to have changed, but he wouldn't really know that until he put it to the test. He wouldn't know if he still had his empathy until he was at a crime scene.

A part of him was afraid to find out, and another part wanted to leap out of bed and head to his office, to demand that Jack take him to the latest crime scene the team was working at and let him find out if he was still a valid part of that team.

Of course, he couldn't do that. It would be a while before he was even out of bed.

His illness had been a serious one; his brain had been swelling inside his skull. It wasn't like he could get out of bed and do anything he pleased after only one treatment; it would take several of those before he was in any shape to leave the hospital.

Had he been victorious? Was the swelling going away, or would they have to find some other kind of radical treatment that would make him better? Will didn't want to ask; he balanced on a tightrope between needing to know and dreading what he would hear.

"Will." The voice was familiar; he turned his head to see Hannibal sitting in the same chair he'd been in when Will had last seen him, just before he'd drifted off to sleep. Had Hannibal been here all this time, by his side, keeping watch over him?

He blinked, opening his mouth to ask the question, but Hannibal shook his head and pressed a finger against Will's lips. "Yes, Will, to answer your unspoken question, I've been here all this time. I didn't want to leave you. I wanted you to wake up with someone familiar close to you."

Will couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to. His heart was too full.

This proved that Hannibal cared. That this man had stayed by his side, when he surely had other important things that he could be doing -- things that he _needed_ to do -- meant more than he could say. The fact that he'd put Will first said so much that words couldn't convey.

"I believe that we are on the road to victory, Will," Hannibal said softly, his lips curving into a smile. "The results seem very positive so far. So you can rest easy."

Will closed his eyes, feeling relief seep through him. The treatments were working; he was going to be all right. He hardly knew it when Hannibal's hand came to rest over his; all he could think of was the future, and hope with all of his heart that it would be a bright one.


End file.
